Ash Wednesday... hmmm.... just another horriday?

Seemingly....

Peter wanted a 'red' herring salad, as he suddenly knew what day it was. So I brought him a small container of it to hospital. It is herring, and onions pickles, some cut beets, and mayonnaise,very tasty. His coordination is not so good, but I try to let him do it himself... And only do things like opening up an apple sauce jar, or the stubborn new caps they have on milk cartons, stuff like that....

And, of course, he spilled a bit on his johnny. Just as a rather robust woman came in to mop the floors. And she overheard, and just grinned from ear to ear. Because I said, 'I saw that coming, and NOW you're gonna get it, and they will ban me from visiting.' She kept mopping, and I offered to get out, but she said, 'No, dear, you just sit there, and lift your feet.' Which I did. Peter was just finished, and for some reason, there is no waste basket to be seen, so I wanted to dispose of it in the one next to the corfee machine in the 'visitor's room', and she winked and whispered, 'Give it to me, I'll get rid of it', smiling all the while...

I went out and thanked her.

So far, and I have been in lots of hospitals, I have never seen such competent, understanding personell as where Peter now is. And friendly, and kindly.

There are new people in his room. One of them is very funny, although he is on dialysis every day. He seems to be fairly cool. The second is probably worse off at the moment. Very quiet, but his wife is nice and caring, and his daughters are funny. The fourth is non-communicative.

Gawwd, I hate hospitals.

Now comes the bad part. I got home, and found a note scribbled on my lap-top from W. Y'know, the French Foreign Legion guy. 'Please call me'. Uh-huh.

He still has some stuff in my apt. and a month ago I told him to take it and get the hell out of my life. But he still has the keys.

Oh, he didn't take anything, but with all the uproar, my place looks like a nuclear bomb struck it, because I am always running.

It is pretty bad. And the depression didn't help any. And you know how it is, you get in, emotionally exhausted, and look around and don't know where to start, and you say, 'Will start tomorrow.' Which is the worst thing you can do.

What can I say? I went from fastidious to slob....